A Letter from Devan

I lived a completely normal childhood, until the summer of 1995.

At the time I was in the 11^th grade at a French boarding school in Gravelbourg, Saskatchewan. With only two weeks remaining before the end of the school year I went to see a doctor about two bumps that had appeared on the side of my face.

After the examination, the doctor told me that I had the mumps and that I wouldn’t be able to return to school. I called my teachers and they told me that I wouldn’t have to write my final exams. I was pretty happy about that! I even took the time to call my friends and bug them about having to write exams as I was on an early holiday.

During the following three weeks, I would see two other doctors. The first one said that my body just needed more time to get over the mumps. I went to see the third one after my parents noticed a huge bruise on the back of my leg, and we couldn’t figure out where it came from. That doctor decided to do some blood tests and told me that it would be best for me to spend the night at the hospital due to my lack of energy.

I was awakened the next morning when two doctors and my parents entered my room. Instantly I knew something was wrong.

The doctors explained that I had leukemia.

It was like I was in a bad dream, but couldn’t wake up. I didn’t know what to say or what to do. My parents were trying to console themselves, as well as me.

I was told that I had to go to Regina to have more tests done and the doctors said that they could get an ambulance to drive me to the city, or my parents could take me. I wanted to go with my parents.

Before we left, my two younger brothers showed up at the hospital to see me. I will never forget the look of sadness on their faces. Admittedly, we were all at a loss for words.

The two-hour trip to Regina felt like a lifetime. The only thing I could think of was that I had cancer and that I wouldn’t have much time left.

We arrived at the Regina General Hospital and spoke to a specialist who asked me a bunch of questions. He explained that a normal blood count would consist of about 10,000 white cells, while mine was over 200,000. He finished explaining things to me and sent me to intensive care. The following three days were very long and full of tests and questions. It was all kind of a blur and I began chemotherapy on my fourth day in Regina.

At that time I wasn’t able to see my friends, but the nurses gave me a telephone so they could call. Everything was a little overwhelming at first but just talking to everyone helped me relax.

After a week I was transferred to the Children’s Ward of the Pasqua Hospital. My treatments were intense, but I was lucky not to have many side effects from the drugs. During my weeks there I had a lot of visitors.

After being in the hospital for two months I was finally given a day pass and my family and I went out to supper. I will never forget how good that greasy pizza tasted! I think my body was getting sick of all of the healthy hospital food. After supper I went to the hairdresser. My hair was slowly starting to fall out so I decided to shave it off instead of having a bunch of bald spots. Besides, lots of my friends had shaved heads so my hairstyle, or lack thereof, would fit right in!

I returned to boarding school in September. I knew my parents didn’t want me to go, but they were supportive and they never told me what I could or couldn’t do. Returning to school helped to bring a sense of normalcy back to my life.

My parents continued to drive me to Regina on a weekly basis for treatments and it didn’t take long before I knew that two-hour stretch of highway by heart.

My friends always helped me out with homework so I could keep up with the many classes that I missed and I was able to graduate in June. After high school I wanted to move to Saskatoon with a bunch of my friends, but I quickly realized that it would be easier to stay in Regina with the same doctor. My treatments eventually went from every week to every month and in August of 1997, after two long years, I got to quit chemotherapy! I still needed to go in for check-ups, but they were a welcome change from treatments.

My check-ups soon went from every month to every three months. Then every six months! Today, I only have to go in for yearly visits.

It’s been seven years since I was diagnosed. I feel great and my life is back to normal. I’ve even been married for over a year now! Looking back, I realize that I am very lucky to be where I am today. I know that my battle would have been a lot harder without all of the love, prayers and support that I received from my parents, brothers and all of my family and friends.

There are still a lot of people who are in a battle against cancer. But with all of your support we are making a difference and, little by little, we ARE winning the battle. Every one of us can make a difference! Together, with your support of events like The Terry Fox Run, WE WILL BEAT CANCER!!

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